


Kloktober, Oct. 19th: 80s Fashion or 90s Fashion

by Morpheus626



Series: Lee's Kloktober 2020 [19]
Category: Metalocalypse (Cartoon)
Genre: M/M, Trans Pickles the Drummer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-20
Updated: 2020-10-20
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:00:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27114365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morpheus626/pseuds/Morpheus626
Summary: Another combo day, of 80s and 90s fashion, because this features one of my fave topics: Pickles’ Snakes N’ Barrels wardrobe.Synopsis: Charles/Pickles. Charles has had a shit day, and decides to explore Pickles closet, but naturally gets caught. Pickles isn’t mad though, not at all.TW: alcohol and drinking/being drunk, also this is just really NSFW lol
Relationships: Charles Foster Offdensen/Pickles the Drummer
Series: Lee's Kloktober 2020 [19]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1948486
Kudos: 11





	Kloktober, Oct. 19th: 80s Fashion or 90s Fashion

“Murderface, I fuckin’ told you, you can borrow what you want from my old shit, but you gotta ask fi-” 

Pickles stopped dead. 

Not Murderface. 

Charles. 

In a pair of fishnets he’d forgotten he owned, a pair of unbuttoned cut off jean short shorts he’d worn on stage all of once (one of his balls had popped out and they’d nearly been banned from that particular club, otherwise he would have happily worn them more often), and one of the black leather vests with velvet interior (that frankly was comfortable to wear, but probably smelled like every place he’d ever worn it at.)

Charles blushed bright red. “M’sorry. Just always been curious...” 

“You’re drunk,” Pickles laughed. “Holy shit, you are...really drunk. You okay?” 

“Murderface pissed on a Klokateer, and they’re suing us,” Charles replied, a thumb flicking at the bare skin of his hip, not covered by the shorts or the vest. 

And there sure was a lot, not covered by anything. 

“On purpose?” 

“Accident, shockingly enough,” Charles scoffed. “But they’ve got an ammonia allergy or some shit. Whatever, they deserve the payout anyway, and it won’t make a dent. It’s just the last thing I wanted to hear today.” 

“I bet I could tell you some things you’d wanna hear,” Pickles said, gently stepping into the closet and letting his hands linger on Charles’ hips. “Like how you have my permission to raid this part of my closet whenever you want from now on.” 

“Yeah?” Charles giggled as Pickles kissed at his neck and chest. He was fucking plastered, so Pickles wouldn’t let it go too much further without him sobering up, but goddamn if his giggling wasn’t as hot as the outfit. 

“Yeah,” Pickles replied. “You look fuckin’ amazing. No more suits, I declare it.” 

“Never again?” 

“Never again,” Pickles repeated, letting his hips grind against Charles’ increasingly hard cock, barely held within the confines of the very short shorts. “Only stuff from my Snakes N’ Barrels days now.” 

“What else do you want to see me in?” 

He got a little bit happily dizzy at hearing that, not a single bit of blood left in his head. “Shit. Give me a minute.” 

He let go of Charles, who stripped out of the vest like a fucking showgirl (and goddamn, it would be Charles that had that in his past, wouldn’t it?) 

Only one of the chairs in his room fit into the walk-in closet without much trouble, but he wasn’t about to be picky about it. 

Pickles settled into the chair, undid his trousers and shoved down his underwear until he could get a hand at his cock and folds. “You look first. I wanna see what you like.” 

Charles blushed bright red. 

“No one ever let you fuck around with shit like this, did they?” Pickles asked. He wasn’t trying to get overly introspective, just stating a fact. “If you call in sick tomorrow, and stay in my room tonight, I can get you in makeup too.” 

Charles’ cock was leaking through the shorts, and that damn near sent Pickles over the edge right then. “I’m one of your bosses, so I just made that what’s happening. You’re gonna be hung over as fuck anyway.” 

Charles winced. “Yeah. I...I need to order a full refill for my drinks cabinet.” 

“Jesus,” Pickles breathed.

“You can’t judge!” 

“No, I’m not,” Pickles said. “I mean, to me, that’s hot as fuck. I don’t get to see you put booze away like that. Fuck.” 

Charles smiled, and plucked at a patterned piece of fabric. “Is this...what I think it is?” 

He pulled the kimono out and cocked his head. “I didn’t think you’d be the type.” 

“Honestly?” Pickles giggled. “I thought Freddie Mercury looked hot as fuck when he’d strip out of a kimono on stage, for those Japan shows?” 

He was being vague on purpose, he had those dates of the shows as well as the pictures of Freddie absolutely ironed into his mind forever, exactly where he wanted them. 

“So...when we went to Japan, I picked one up. But the guys wouldn’t let me do the strip out of it into short shorts like Freddie. That’s part of his magic, by the way. He started a band with all straight people, and it worked out. Only he could do that. Meanwhile I did it and they were fuckin’ assholes about me ‘lookin’ too gay on stage.’ I’m fuckin’ gay, yeah I’m gonna look fuckin’ gay onstage!” 

He’d gotten into his mini-rant, enough to not notice Charles had changed into the kimono.

Only the kimono. 

“Holy fuck,” he sighed, and pulled his hand from his trousers, gesturing Charles towards him.

“Nope,” Charles said. “I wanna see you in something those assholes wouldn’t let you wear onstage. Your dream, most gay outfit, that they vetoed.”

They traded places, Charles dipping away when Pickles tried to snag his bare hip as they walked past each other. 

“Fair warning,” Pickles said as he yanked out the outfit he had in mind, giggling as Charles covered his eyes. “This is another Mercury-inspired one. That was most of it, honestly...whatever wasn’t inspired by him was Elton, or what the drag queens in the clubs suggested I looked good in.” 

This one, however, was peak seventies Freddie: a rhinestone covered bodysuit. Pickles had taken notes from Freddie in cutting the neck all the way down past his belly button, and had cut the sleeves off till there was just the barest string of material, all the easier to fall off his shoulders while he performed. According to the rest of Snakes N’ Barrels, it ‘wasn’t a tough enough look’, but he didn’t see them going through the pain of getting into a tight-ass bodysuit with five minutes to show time. 

“You can look,” he said softly, a little nervous. He had some paunch now that he hadn’t had back then, more body hair. It might not have the stunning effect it had had on his lovers back then, the few that there were. 

Charles uncovered his eyes, and his jaw dropped. “Get over here.” 

“Is that go-” Pickles was cut off as Charles stood and stepped over to him, sweeping him up in a tight embrace and kiss.

“Fuck them for not letting you wear this,” Charles murmured against his lips. “They had no fucking clue what they were missing out on. I would have been at even more of your sho-” 

He paused, and blushed, just as hard as before. 

“I figured you’d been to a few,” Pickles said. “You tellin’ me if they’d let me wear this onstage, I could have been fucking you years ago, backstage and in my hotel rooms?” 

“Rooms?” Charles asked in between the kisses he’d resumed to the freckles on Pickles’ shoulders. 

“Hell yeah,” Pickles replied, sighing happily and grinding against Charles as much as he could. “You’d have been comin’ everywhere with me.” 

“In which ways?” Charles grinned, and they both broke into laugher. 

“Every way possible,” Pickles said. “We’d be wreckin’ hotel rooms by the time we were done with ‘em.” 

For a few moments, he fell into near-silence aside from gentle moans in between kisses. 

“Y’know, I bet if we work at, we could pretend my room is a hotel room,” Pickles said. “Once you sober up a little.” 

“I have literally never sobered up this fast in my life,” Charles said, and the clarity in his eyes and hardness of his cock were clear evidence of that. 

“Good,” Pickles kissed him hard, and teased at his cock through the material of the kimono. “Let’s go make up for lost time then. Get some makeup on both of us, then get in my bed and pretend it’s 1989.” 

“You would have been...twenty?” Charles smiled. 

“Don’t go gettin’ all nostalgic right now,” Pickles said. “Save that for after. Then you can cry and your eyeliner can run, you can look even hotter, and we can fuck again.” 

“I love you,” Charles sighed as Pickles led him out of the closet. 

“I love you too,” Pickles laughed, and he’d never said that with so much meaning to anyone before. 

The way Charles kissed him again let him know that he meant it just as strongly. 


End file.
